he winds sewing thread, i hold, the baby potters with a eucalyptus leaf;

twist and turn with dewy-eyed concentration.

we've borrowed one of his hangers in miniature,

for that which this year becomes the only little whisper of

fragrance and solitary sign of christmas in our flat.

we're traveling to sweden and christmas there.

a grandpa MoFa baking and cooking with skilled, loving hands.

he's said it himself, when life has burned around us;

- '.. and all i can do is to cook ..'

i've thought

don't you know yet that that's the most beautiful thing you can do..?

hours in the kitchen, in circles between the sink and stove,

in the language that is his. saffron and white wine.

sharp-edged japanese steel and a kitchen towel over the shoulder.

i hope you know, papa. we know.

the spartan already speaks in a dreamy voice,

when he asks just before we fall asleep

we won't arrive so late that we won't do dinner..?

never..! i smile in the darkness.

we're traveling to sweden and christmas there.

a grandma MoMo that will have been searching for those our

traditional three-armed candles in miniature, which will then be held

by those antique christmas tree candleholders;

one on the edge of each bottom plate around the table.

a MoMo who will have bought sourdough crisp bread and amazing cheeses

and who's queued for hours to buy the tastiest herring from the favorite fisherman.

my mama who says don't buy christmas gifts this year,

- you are the presents. just BE.. here with us.

we're traveling to sweden and christmas there.my heart is still. our baby's first christmas. and everything.. fits.there's nothing we need more.a christmas in miniature. filled to the brim with care.with love,hannah

and so it happened that we could finally open the doors.now it's there, my own personal print shop.hannah lemholt fine art photography.there you can read a bit about my journey so far,you can sign up for newsletters that'll be sent out onlywhen there are new launches, limited editions- & the occasional sample sale.and then you can, of course, buy fine art prints.there's still days to go, if one wants delivery before christmas,which was kind of my hope to be able to help you with,by opening the doors just now. in this first round, i've put photographs in there thatare requested a lot, those that hasn't been released before.the idea is then that photographs will be added,in the upcoming new and exciting year,such as limited editions of selected work,numbered and signed.*we giclée print everything in a hahnemühle certified print studio,resulting in beautiful fully archival prints.i'm already in love with finding myself there in the print studio,taking deep breaths in with that unmistakable blend of fragrances.paper, ink, coffee and passion.

we print on hahnemühle studio enhanced matte 210 gsm,

which is a matte coated paper with a smooth surface texture.all prints are relief embossed with a discreet seal to ensure authenticity,- like my name in a small corner relief that is.orders from my personal print shop come with complimentary soft cotton gloves, for you to be able to unpack,- & later handle, your new art with care and love.something i've been missing when i've eagerly wanted towinkle a beautiful printed sheet from a tube,without straight away managing to put both one and twosmudgy thumbprints on the paper.there's more to read if one is curious,and feel free to ask if you have any questions. here too.i mostly wanted to stop by and, as promised, say thatthe doors are open now.. welcome..!in my own just now i'm gonna snuggle up between the sheets,close, close to two of the loveliest people i know.they're waiting. along with candles, a glass of champagne,a cup of tea and presumably whispers about new,exciting adventures for tonight's bedtime story.with love,hannahx

my coffee. his tea. buba’s milk. in an accustomed barefoot dance.eskimo kisses and a sudden, all clear, - mamma.she’s tired, she who lifts him up off the floor right then.but she lifts.to the hip and on, up into the air. up, up, up.hold him high in the morning light. everything for a delighted giggle. a pile of letters and the phone as the paperweight.replies that’s taken a long time and are still too short.the sister. the friend. she’s tired, she who keys in replies,where she’s sitting at the kitchen table for oneof those rare, and already meted, - moments of quiet. the sister, the friend, tired of being tired.*the camera is heavy in the hand.i answer questions about what i do, how i do it,walking in circles across the floor and pray a silent prayerfor the last pieces to fall into place in the days unfolding.she's tired, she who’s sorting words for photographs.but she remembers.every title and every poem. the tone of the photograph.my only sharpness. my 'image memory'.next week, my personal print shop will finally launch.i mean, we have to do it in time to send christmas gifts.and with it i’m back to just that, - personal.it feels so right and so good, all the way in, past the tiredand for all the parts that live in me.as i answered, walking there in circles across the floor,with the phone wedged between shoulder and ear;my art ..?it’s not business. it’s personal.*into december and far further than that,i’m thinking that it's okey to be tired.for me 2016 was a year that demanded,one that brought most to a head. 2016 raised questions.i think 2017 will be a year that answers.and so i read a new sentence that remains,one that gets to take over;i am obsessed with becominga womancomfortable in her skin.i read them to her sitting on the edge of the bed,to her barefoot dancing in the kitchen,to the sister, and the friend. the lover.to the photographer too.and to you.with love,hannahx